Back To Before
by Fi Rocks
Summary: Hi everyone! Here's a story about Michael and Fi's first meeting back in the day, only what I think about when, where and how they met. Thanks to Philippa Connors over at the Burn Notice board for the beta. Please review! Complete as of 3/20/09.
1. Chapter 1

Back to Before

Michael Westen found himself looking around the unassuming tea shop wondering which one of these sedate, average looking customers was really an IRA terrorist. He discredited over half of them with one glance. He took in the numerous people populating the shop, recognized the government types by their average suits, their all too shiny shoes, by their stereotypical trench coats that helped protect their average suits from the average London weather. There was one, one that he hoped was not working for the IRA she was too slight, too lithe of limb, too beautiful to be a terrorist. She sat at a table, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, deep in thought. He was taken by how beautiful she was as her hair shone in the café lights, her bright, blue eyes taking in every word on the page she was reading.

Michael dismissed her as he scanned the rest of the crowd trying to figure out who came here to blow up the shop that was really a front for anything the local government wanted to keep out of official channels. Money laundering, black market weapons deals, bribes of officials. Anyone who thought that their government wouldn't do such things didn't know their government.

Fiona Glenanne felt eyes upon her, felt them scan her body and as much as she wanted to turn around and see who was doing the scanning she knew that she couldn't let on that she knew. She looked in the mirror on the wall of the tea shop instead and saw him. She knew he was an American; he had that privileged _something_ that most Americans travelling in Europe seemed to possess. He had it in spades, a certainty and assuredness of his place in the world and that he belonged in any place in the world. As intense as his scan of her was, it was over in a few seconds and at that moment Fiona felt oddly dismissed as if she had passed some test she wasn't aware of taking. She let out a small groan as she realized what song had begun playing on the overhead speakers, "Linger" by the Cranberries seemed to be playing to death the past few months and Fiona swore if she heard it one more time she was going to have to take a hostage. She took this as her clue to leave and gathered up her things.

Michael watched as the attractive young woman he had been watching gathered up her things and left the shop. He smiled as she walked past him, still lingering around the door way, not really committed to entering the shop at that point. She smiled right back at him as she left. He watched her leave, saw her turn back and look at him over her shoulder. It was then that he noticed she had left a small bag behind at the table she had been sitting at. It was also then that he realized he should not have dismissed her so easily. He knew he had found his terrorist. He ran up to the counter and told the manager that they needed to evacuate the shop immediately. The manager listened to him and started evacuation procedures.

Michael exited the shop and ran after the woman he had dismissed. He saw her walking at a brisk pace up the street, in no hurry, nothing betraying what she had just done. He tailed her not wanting to let on that she was being followed. In other words he tailed her just the way they had taught him in spy school, hanging back, looking at his surroundings while he was really focused on where she was and where she was going. He saw her duck down a small alley a few feet away from where he was walking; he picked up his pace so he wouldn't lose her. He cautiously made his way into the alley .He heard a call of "_Ar Aire_" come from somewhere ahead of him, he wasn't sure if the call to "attention" was for his benefit or for someone else. He heard a feminine voice issue the call so he was pretty certain it belonged to the woman from the café. He wondered if she knew he was nearby and perhaps the Gaelic was to surprise, startle or maybe even confuse the listener, fortunately he had studied some basic Gaelic before his latest assignment so the call didn't have the effect that it might have had on someone else. He walked down the alley a little more cautiously than before, hoping that she didn't have any _páirti _or associates aiding her in the alley.

Just when he thought he was in the clear, he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his right knee, it was a second later when he realized that the knee had been kicked out by a very strong and powerful opponent, someone who knew what they were doing and weren't afraid to show him that. He felt his right hand touch the wet cobblestones in the alley as he braced himself keeping his body from being more damaged, as his right hand caught his body; he brought his left hand out and pulled on the leg that had kicked out at him. He brought the attractive looking woman down to the ground next to him, while every instinct he had said "don't hit a woman" he knew that if he relied on this instinct he would be in more trouble than he was at the moment. Michael was taken aback by how well and fearlessly his opponent fought, as he was processing which move to make next, he felt her turn around and up out of his arms easily escaping from him and running down the alley before he could get up.

He watched her as she ran away, taking mental notes on her clothing, her accessories, things he noticed in the café but took special notice of now, for they seemed more important than they had previously. Before she was just an attractive woman in a café, now he knew that she was a well-trained IRA terrorist that he had to learn more about and the easiest way was to find out which stores she frequented and maybe "accidently" bump into her at one of those stores in the near future.

After Fiona found her way back to her hotel room after much doubling back to make sure she wasn't being followed by the American who came after her in the alley she took the bounty she had scored off of him out of her backpack. After she felt the American hesitate and not hit her she lifted his wallet. It's a talent she was still fine tuning and was rather surprised that she didn't hear the American yelling for her after he realized what she had done. OK now to the spoils, she opened the wallet was rather disinterested in the credit cards for they were too traceable, slightly more interested in the money and most interested in his identity. She pulled out what looked like a generic driver's license from the rather ordinary state of Oregon, the name Michael Westen and an address printed on the front of it. She expected more somehow, she was sure he was in some sort of agency or another that was bent on infiltrating the IRA. She was rather disappointed that she had just attacked a rather seemingly ordinary tourist who probably wandered down the alley by mistake.

She started to wonder how her instincts could have been so off. She was certain he was following her. She was sure that he knew she had caused the explosion in the café and had come after her to catch her and interrogate her. He had to be a spy, she knew it. After her musings she turned on the television to see what carnage her explosion had left in its wake. She was most interested in seeing one name in particular on the list of dead or injured, preferably dead but she wasn't too picky as long as he was out of commission she would feel that her task had been accomplished. She watched as the local reporter talked about the explosion, "ties to the IRA blah, blah, blah" and what was this? No one was injured due to the help of an unknown American tourist who had asked that the café be evacuated prior to the bomb going off? No ordinary tourist indeed. There was no way he could have known what was in her bag if he didn't know what he was looking for ahead of time. Knowing that he was more than he seemed made Fiona feel slightly better, she knew her instincts were right when she took him down in the alley and now she felt rather vindicated for doing so. She could hardly wait to bump into him again to see what he would reveal to her. Perhaps a call to some of the local hotels was in order so she could make sure got his bogus wallet back. Also, this would be a way for her to find out where he was staying, stake it out, then take him down and interrogate him. Oh! This was going to be fun!

After Michael returned to his hotel room he began taking the many wallets out of his jacket, it was then that he noticed that one was missing. He checked and found out that it was the one with his Oregon driver's license. It was then that he realized that the woman who had taken him down in the alley was a very, very good pick pocket. He hadn't even felt her take it from him when it had happened. Well, at least if she checked on the ID he knew it would lead to a hotel room on the other side of town. Perhaps a stakeout was in order to see if she was looking for him at the aforementioned hotel room? After unloading all of his accessories he turned on the television and watched the local news. He found out that no one had been hurt in the explosion and that he was the main cause for that, granted he wasn't named in the report but it had been his insistence on evacuating the café that the news was crediting for everyone escaping relatively unscathed.

He wondered what kind of fall out would come from this report. True he wasn't named but no one would have known what to look for if they had not known what they were looking for. He found himself wondering about the woman from the alley pondering if she had been watching the news as well and if so if she knew that he wasn't just an ordinary tourist from Oregon. Of course, she could not even be figuring him into the equation, she could be thinking it was someone else but somehow he didn't think so. He didn't think she would have been so adamant to take him down if she didn't know what he was.

This obsessing over what might or might not being going on in some woman's head that he didn't even know wasn't doing him any good. He decided to store his wallets in the secret storage place; known in the spy trade as slicks he had created one above the bathroom sink, keeping one as he headed down to the hotel's restaurant for an early dinner. Tomorrow would be a very busy day and he had to eat, and get a lot of rest before he began his surveillance on the hotel across town. He didn't really know why but he had a good feeling that his mystery assailant would be showing up and possibly hoping to catch him with his guard down. He had gotten a feeling for how good she was so he knew it was important to be well fed and well rested for tomorrow.

Fiona tried to sleep, but it seemed as if the more she tried to sleep the more sleep eluded her. She had never, ever felt like this on a job before she was trying to figure out what bothered her so much about going to the hotel and tracking down this unordinary tourist from Oregon. She found herself reaching under her pillow, checking for the 1,000th time to make sure her gun was still there and easily accessible. She knew that she was not followed to her hotel, she knew that he had no way of knowing where she was but still she was bothered and anxious by what might come tomorrow, well, later today. She checked the clock and discovered that it was already 2:04 a.m. OK she knew she had to stop this, she had to stop thinking and go to sleep. She had to be alert, aware, and ready for whatever may come tomorrow, for she knew this adversary was one to be reckoned with.

Finally she fell into a not very restful sleep. As she slept she found herself plagued by nightmares of her parents, and what had happened to them in her final days. See, Fiona was not one raised to be a part of the lifestyle she now found herself a part of. No, she had spent her time in public schools, also known as private schools on the other side of the pond, she was a part of the upper one percent of the population, those born of privilege who had almost every and anything their hearts could desire. She had ballet lessons at four, riding lessons at eight, etiquette lessons before she even knew what etiquette was. It wasn't until her parent's betrayal and murder by the British government that Fiona even thought of the IRA, until then it was kind of like an annoying gnat always flittering around her consciousness but she was never fully aware of it. When she was suddenly orphaned at seventeen she found herself adrift with no purpose, granted she was the sole heir to her family's fortune and she could do whatever she wanted financially but somehow that didn't fulfill her. She wanted revenge for what had happened to her parents, so she hooked up with an acquaintance of an acquaintance and for lack of a better word, apprenticed with a master bomb maker in the IRA.

Fiona woke up with a jolt, and a scream of "NO!" emitted from her throat as she once again witnessed the execution of her parents in her nightmare. She had replayed their last minutes more times than she could count. Always she tried to change it somehow, tried to make it not come to the conclusion that it had originally and as her skills grew over the years she placed herself in different scenarios in an attempt to rescue them, alternately trying to seduce, shoot, or blow up the guards at their prison. No matter what she tried it never worked, she knew her attempts wouldn't but that still didn't keep her from trying, trying to change her past so it would ultimately lead her to a different present.

She took a minute before opening her eyes and checking the clock to see how early or late it was. She took a deep breath, keeping her eyes closed, trying to quiet her heart that was beating frantically within her chest. Her heartbeat sounded to her like a loud, kettle drum and the more she focused on it the louder it seemed to beat. Finally, she willed herself to open her eyes, turning her head slowly to look at the clock on the nightstand. OK that was a little better, 7:30 a.m., five and a half hours of sleep; not great but not bad. She had made it on far less doing much more dangerous jobs. Not that she was underestimating 's skills, but doing surveillance on a hotel was not as challenging say as building a firebomb in twenty minutes. Granted, it was boring and not one of her favorite things to do, but from a cost benefit analysis standpoint there was normally not as high a cost as there were benefits.

She sat up in bed, stretched her arms up over her head, twisting first one way and then the other, then she finally got out of bed. She walked over to the non-descript, hotel bureau and choose an outfit to wear for the day. Something comfortable that she wouldn't mind being in for a few hours. Something . . . "ah! that's it" she thought, as she took her outfit out of the bureau and made her way into the bathroom to take a shower. Once she was finished getting ready, she checked the clock again, 8:10 OK enough time to eat a quick breakfast before she went over to the hotel and waited on Mr. Westen for a few hours. She grabbed her bag, and exited her room shutting the door tightly behind her.

Across town, Michael found himself checking his supplies one more time before packing his bag and readying himself for a long siege of hurry up and wait. Binoculars-check, camera-check, snacks-check, reading material-check. You never wanted to be too obvious when doing surveillance so taking along some reading material could help persuade someone who noticed you to believe you were just sitting and reading, perhaps waiting for someone. It was rather interesting how comforted most people were by observing another person engaging in such a mundane task as reading a newspaper. They would never think twice about such a person, never give him or her a second glance. They wouldn't dare entertain the thought that this person was really a spy, trained in hand to hand combat and able to take the average person down in less than three moves. No, better for them to seek comfort in the idea that he was just waiting for a business contact, partner, girlfriend or mistress than dare think that the American James Bond was in the house.

As he exited his room and started walking across town to where the bogus Michael Weston was staying, he smiled at that last thought, he didn't know where that had come from exactly he never thought of himself that way. He just went wherever he was assigned, did what he was told that was necessary to complete the task given to him. He did it for the ideal of patriotism and the notion that he was doing all he could to make the world a better, more secure place. People had no idea some of the things he had done, and most people would not understand some of the choices he had made that caused certain things to take place under the designation of allegiance. His own family didn't even know, despite the persistent letters his mother had written him asking for information about where he was and what he was doing. He knew he could never let anyone in, never let anyone know what he was up to especially his family, his security and theirs depended on it. It was bad tradecraft to give too much information to anyone who did not need it, that's what he told himself every time he didn't answer one of his mother's letters, especially when those letters reached him when he was in yet another hospital or another.

For as good as he was at his job, there were others out there who were just as good if not better than he. He had the feeling, from the brief skirmish in the alley that the woman he was pursuing was as good and perhaps better at certain aspects of hand to hand combat as he was and that both shocked and excited him. He had gotten used to getting the upper hand in these situations; it had been awhile since anyone had been able to truly surprise him. It also didn't hurt that she came in a pretty attractive package.

As he found himself getting closer to the hotel he knew it was time to stop musing and take in the surroundings, looking to see if anyone was following him, or perhaps waiting for him. He knew that if his instincts were right she was probably already there, expecting to scope him out and see what he was up to for the day. He looked around and did not see her in any of the venues around the hotel, not in the cherry restaurant directly across from the hotel or the rather seedy looking pub next to it. Either she was late or she had ensconced herself inside in the lobby to get a better vantage point of the comings and goings of the hotel. If that's where she was he was surprised at that very bold move, most operatives prefer to stay out of site, in the shadows. In his experience very few were willing to be as audacious as waiting for their quarry inside their lair. "My, my, my" he thought to himself she is rather surprising, not only could she fight pretty well but she was willing to take chances that more seasoned operatives were unwilling to due to fear of exposure. Michael tried to figure out a way to get into the hotel without being noticed by anyone watching the front door; he looked around and saw a service entrance over to the side of the building. It always amazed him how people never seemed to really notice service personnel, how the people who were waiting on them or serving their needs seemed to take on some strange anonymity. It didn't matter where the hotel was, always; well almost always he was able to gain access to the hotel through the service entrance with little or no resistance. The key was to walk through the door like you belonged there. Don't act like you didn't know where you were going, no hesitation and never betray a sense of doubt, walk in grab a tray or put on an apron then walk into the rest of the hotel. That's what he would normally do.

Now he was just looking for a way to get into the hotel without her, his worthy opponent, knowing he was there. He carefully opened the door leading from the kitchen to the back stairway of the hotel. It would be even easier than he thought because this hotel still had an old fashioned servants' stairway that was far from the prying eyes of the guests. He planned to walk up the stairway a few flights and try to gain a vantage point of the lobby where he could see her but she couldn't see him. That's what he thought he was going to do, then he saw her walking up the very same stairway wearing a maid's uniform. "OH, she is good," he thought as he casually walked down a side hallway and out of her view.

Fiona had that feeling again, the same felling she had had yesterday in the café, the feeling of being watched combined with a really strange sense of approval. She knew that she was frequently looked at by men, but this felt more intense than that. Almost as if someone was watching her, trying to figure out who she was, it was really hard to explain, she knew it went beyond the normal male interest. It was almost as if, if. .. the person watching her forgot that she was a _woman _and was more interested in her as a _person_. She did not let on that she sensed she was being watched. She continued walking down the hall until she came to Michael Westen from Oregon's room. She knocked on the door "housekeeping," she said as she waited for a response. She hesitated trying to decide if it was worth the risk to enter the room. She knocked again, a bit louder, still no response. She decided that the risk was worth it as she reached up with her right hand and removed a hairpin from the bun at the nape or her neck and began picking the lock to the room.

Michael watched from around the corner as his opponent reached into her hair for something and brought that hand down to the lock of the hotel room door. He was still trying to figure out what it was she held as he heard a click and realized she had been successful at picking the lock to the door with whatever it was she held in her hand. He was considering going into the room after her and confronting her to find out what exactly she wanted with him and why she had decided to hazard the chance of picking the lock of a rather unassuming tourist's room. He decided that there would be more information to be gathered by following her and figuring out whom her associates were and if any had travelled with her to England. He ducked further back into the hallway and waited for her to finish the search of what he knew to be an empty hotel room.

Fiona started looking in the obvious places, the drawers, and was surprised to find that there weren't any clothes stored in any of the drawers the hotel provided. "Hmmm maybe the closet? "she thought as she walked towards the closet in the room. "Maybe he prefers to hang up all of his clothes and keep them there?"She opened the door to the closet and found that empty as well. It was then that the obviousness of the situation dawned upon her that Michael Westen from Oregon had never occupied this room. It was also at that moment that she found herself thinking of every possible scenario that could happen once she left the room. Either Michael Westen was lying in wait for her somewhere in the hotel or he had no idea that she had lifted the wallet and was in his bogus hotel room. Somehow Fi thought it had to me more the former than the latter. She walked out of the room in the most confident, casual manner she could not betraying the nervousness, and if she was completely honest with herself, fear she felt at the moment.

Michael heard the hotel room door open and waited a minute before venturing out of his hiding spot in the hallway. He heard the "ding" of the elevator doors in the hallway and began walking towards the hidden staircase in order to take it downstairs and catch up with his proficient challenger without her knowledge. He walked back through the kitchen and waited at the side of the hotel. He was there a few minutes when she walked by him, no longer dressed in the maid's uniform but instead in more casual clothes, much like the student garb she wore yesterday; jeans, a shirt and some sort of light jacket over it, carrying that backpack again. He started to wonder that if besides being some sort of IRA terrorist she might also be a university student. Somehow that merger of two seemingly mutual exclusive properties seemed to fit her somehow. Granted he didn't know her, hell, he didn't even know her name, but somehow the idea of her being an IRA terrorist cum student seemed to work for her in some strange way. What was he doing theorizing about her this way? His objective was to get information about this group not hypothesize about one of its members, no matter how capable and alluring he found her to be.

He decided to follow her a bit, see if she met up with anyone, and see if she was going to engage in something as innocuous as going to University. Even though she looked every bit the university student he started to get the feeling that maybe this was another uniform as he followed her for a few blocks, maybe an effort to blend in and look as innocent as possible to bystanders. He made sure to stay out of site and not look like he was following her, although that's what he thought he had done yesterday before he got taken down by a girl. This was not lost on him and he made sure that she didn't know he was behind her. He was walking across the street and he had made sure his reflection wasn't visible to her in any windows if she suddenly decided to stop and window shop, aka checking for a tail. He saw her suddenly stop and look behind her, almost as if she expected him to be there. He thought he saw her give a sigh of relief at not finding him following her.

It was then that he noticed where she had stopped. She stopped in front of a bank, on a Sunday. "Now this could get interesting," he thought as she walked past the bank and around the back. He was trying to decide how much of a risk he could take by following her around the back. He knew that if he did there would be no place to hide and she would know in an instant he was there. However, if she went around the back and did what he thought she was going to do he would be an accessory before the fact. He was about to step off the curb when he started to hear the wail of a distant siren, that siren seemed to be travelling towards the bank he was pretty sure that his adversary had tripped the alarm in her attempt to break into the bank. He was confident that she wasn't that sloppy so she must have received bad Intel from someone who wanted her caught. Before he could think it through he ran across the street to help her aka provide an alibi. He saw her running out of the bank and knew that she must have heard the sirens. He grabbed her, and pressed her up against the neighboring building as the first police officer approached them, he did the only thing he could think of which was to kiss her as the police officer tapped him on the shoulder. He broke off the kiss, and she had the good sense to wrap her arms around his neck as he turned to speak to the officer.

"Yes, sir?" he asked in a docile, yet tipsy tone, as he leaned towards his now accessory.

"Excuse me, but did you see anyone entering that building" the officer asked as he pointed towards the bank.

"I'm sorry officer, but we haven't really seen anyone else but each other today" Fiona answered in a slight, New England accent from over Michael's shoulder as she nuzzled her head in the crook of his neck.

Michael was slightly surprised by the accent but did his best not to reveal his surprise to the officer; he simply pulled her closer to him as she was speaking. He knew that the officer needed to believe that they were just American tourists in England on holiday if they were to get out of this without going to jail.

The officer looked a little skeptical at that, but Michael saw by watching his body language that he was starting to believe them. His foe must have picked up on something as well because he felt her hand snake its way up his back as she pulled him closer to her, her head still doing that nuzzling thing near his neck that was driving him crazy.

"I'm going to need your names and where you're staying so we can get in touch with you later on about this. Do you have your identification or passports with you?"

Fiona answered for both of them. "I keep our identification in my backpack, here you go officer" with that she handed over the fake Oregon ID that she had lifted, could it be, only 24 hours ago? As well as another one that looked like it was also from Oregon, but it flew from her hands into the officer's too quickly for Michael to read. When he was done taking down the information, he handed Fiona back the IDs which she quickly stashed back in the backpack.

"OK Mr. and Mrs. Westen thank you for your cooperation, we'll be in touch if we have any further questions, you're free to go."

"Mr. and Mrs. Westen?!" Michael thought, "who was this woman and who did she know who was able to come up with a fake ID so quickly?" He knew he couldn't betray the confusion and yes, anger, he felt to the officer so he put his hand on his _wife's _lower back to escort her from the scene "ready honey?" he asked as he applied slight pressure to her back for her to start walking.  
"Yes dear" she answered as she turned and smiled at him as they left the scene, not missing a beat. Then she wrapped her left arm around his back as he wrapped his right around hers. They began walking away in tandem not betraying the underlying contempt they felt for each other, but both understanding how important it was for them to keep this charade going until they were out of the officer's line of sight. In addition to the feelings of disdain there were also the underlying strains of respect and admiration that they felt for the other being able to act so quickly and so confidently.

"So are you a spy?" Fiona asked in her Irish brogue.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, miss. . .? You know so much about me and I know so little about you, like your name for instance." Michael volleyed back.

"My name? That's all you want in exchange for telling me if you're a spy sent to infiltrate my organization?" Fiona avoided answering his question with one of her own.

"**Your** organization? I thought the IRA didn't have any female heads?" Michael asked, and by doing so was able to express to her exactly how much he knew about her organization.

It was at that moment that they both realized they had walked a full two blocks away from the bank and that they both still had their hands on each other's backs but neither seemed willing to break that contact. It was almost as if there was something electric in the air with this light, simple contact. A spark that neither one of them had felt in a long time and one that they didn't want to let go of just yet. They turned and looked at each other at the exact same moment and in that moment something passed between them, something that couldn't be explained but it was almost as if they communicated whole paragraphs about themselves to each other in that glance. This was more than chemistry or attraction but neither one of them knew how to explain it to themselves. He had come here on a mission, to infiltrate her organization, she was there to protect said organization and although they were at cross purposes there was that surprising connection.


	2. Chapter 2

Back To Before

Chapter Two

As they were walking with their arms around each other Michael suddenly felt his partner in crime stiffen and look around clearly seeing something nearby that triggered a fear response within her. He heard her breathing change and he began scanning the people around them to see what would create such a reaction in her. He really didn't know who he was looking for since he had only "met" her a few minutes earlier, so the first thing he did was search for any apparent weapons. As he was trying to figure out what was bothering her, he felt her tug slightly at the fabric of his jacket, trying to get him to go into a nearby pub with her as nonchalantly as possible. He followed her cue, still unsure of what was going on but somehow knowing that she would explain herself shortly--or at least clarify as much as she felt comfortable revealing to him.

Once they were inside he automatically scanned their surroundings, taking note of how many exits were in the pub and which one was the closest route of escape should they need to leave suddenly. Now that they were out of view of anyone who could be possibly watching, they dropped their arms from around each other. As they did so, they both let out what could only be described as a "sigh". The response was so natural and so unplanned that they found themselves smiling at each other, as they realized they had done the exact same thing at almost the exact same moment. As they were smiling at each other Michael asked, "so what scared you out there?"

Fiona raised her right eyebrow, taking in what he had asked . She responded, "Scared? Who was scared?"

Michael answered while scanning the crowd around them, not making eye contact "I definitely felt some sort of fear response from you over something or someone on that street, your breathing changed and you tensed up. Now you don't have to tell me, but I could help you. We both know that you're probably far too good to have triggered any type of alarm at that bank so either it was a set up by someone you know or I have a far too high estimation of your skills Miss. . .?"

"Glenanne, Fiona Glenanne" Fiona responded quickly and almost too quietly for Michael to hear her properly.

"OK Fiona so what scared you? What did you see?" Michael asked as he focused on her, watching to see if she told him the truth.

"An associate of mine, I didn't expect to see him here I thought he was doing some work in Ireland. "She paused before continuing trying to decide how much she should confide. "And when I saw him I thought that he could have set me up. He's always had a problem with my work for the cause and he's been very vocal about his opposition of me."

Michael listened and watched her, trying to detect how much of what she had revealed had been truthful. She didn't give any outwardly obvious physical signs of lying so either she was very, very good at it or she was telling him the truth. "OK. But weren't you doing the job for your _cause_? And if you were arrested wouldn't they be deprived of some funds?"

Fiona answered with only a trace of anger in her voice, remaining coolly analytical of the situation as she explained circumstances to Michael. "Yes, but if I failed by being detained it would give him justification of his point that I can't do the job as well as a man and certainly not as well as he could."

Michael enjoyed hearing how well Fiona understood this person's motivation for his behavior and he knew that she was probably dead on in her assessment. "So what's your next move? You can't hole up here forever you know."

Fiona had also scanned the building when they first came in and noticed that there were two exits to the back of the building. She also knew that her associate wasn't covering the front so that meant that he was probably covering one of the two exits at the back. "I'll leave through the front door go back to my hotel room and go back to Ireland and admit that the mission was a failure."

"Yes you could do that" Michael said. "Or we could leave through the front and go back to your room, where you show me the schematics you have on the bank and we return here later this evening and you go home after completing your assignment successfully."

"Why would you do that, Mr. Westen? Why did you help me in the first place? Thank you by the way. I'm sorry but I forgot to say thank you for the help you provided me with the police officer. "

"You're welcome Fiona it was my pleasure. Surely since I've kissed you, we can be on a first name basis, it's Michael" Michael smiled at her and watched her eyes twinkle in amusement.

"OK, Michael" Fiona paused listening to the way his name sounded when she said it. She then looked at him and noticed that he was completely focused on her and what she was saying. "So why are you going to help me? What do you want from me in exchange for my help?"

Michael was taken slightly aback. He was surprised at how accurately she assessed his motivation- knowing that he wouldn't help her without expecting something from her in return and a part of him loved her bluntness and her calling him on it. Most assets didn't understand their role; most didn't get from the beginning that he didn't help them without expecting something from them in turn. Michael had a feeling that this woman was not going to be like most assets. He paused trying to decide how to approach the next part, how he needed her to be the "in" for him to her organization. "Well, Fiona I'll expect to be able to gather information from you from time to time, to know-"

Fiona cut him off "to know what we're going to blow up and when?" There was a slight, quick widening of his eyes while the rest of his face remained impassive at what she said, and Fiona looked at him in amusement knowing that she had nailed the proverbial nail on the head by the slight change in his expression.

Though neither one of them was quite sure how it had happened, somehow they both knew that some sort of challenge had been issued- a gauntlet thrown down that had to be faced, but how? They both understood that she needed his help and he knew that he needed hers, but if they were to answer the challenge the other issued they knew that it would not end there. This for some reason had a strange sense of permanence for both of them, though if asked neither one of them could quite explain why this was so. If she did accept his help and if he turned her into an asset it wouldn't end on that note somehow, someway they both knew it wouldn't end with this job or this situation. That is if she accepted his help it would become a commitment of sorts a commitment deeper than either one of them had ever had with anyone else.

How strange this all was. They had only met a few hours ago and yet they both understood what was at stake. There was more to this than what appeared to be on the surface, than either one of them could imagine. If pressed neither one of them could explain why this was so, but somehow they both understood no, _knew_ how it would be between the two of them. It was almost as if they both heard the fates or destiny or whatever you want to call it saying "Ha!" in the moment she called him on what he expected from her in return for his help. That something was far greater than either of them understood and far better than either one of them would- or could- ever explain.

What if they were given a glimpse of their collective future in that moment? Would that have changed her answer? Would she not have agreed? Would _he_ not have helped if he knew what she was to bring to his life? Or would they have agreed more readily knowing how much they were to mean to each other?

These questions would have to be answered at a later time, as suddenly there was a loud "BOOM!" that made the windows of the pub shake. Fiona and Michael instinctively hit the ground. It was only when they were able to hear the patrons of the pub laughing did they discover that it wasn't a bomb or a gun but simply a storm that was coming their way. The downpour was so immediate and heavy that it was almost as if the skies decided to open up and let out every drop of water they had been storing all year. Michael began getting up and held out a hand to help Fiona up off of the ground. She took it and began to stand but ducked down again when she saw her associate outside on the sidewalk. She watched him walk down the street and duck into a building across the way. Michael watched her and followed her gaze.

"Is that your associate?" Michael asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes" Fiona said, " looks like he's waiting for us to come out."

"Well then we will have to make sure he doesn't know that we _did _come out. There are-"

Fiona cut him off "two more exits at the back? Yes, I know Michael, I saw them too. I'm not new to this, you know? Tactical awareness isn't something that only spies have."

"I'm sorry Fiona, it's just that I'm used to taking point on these things, explaining things to those who might not be as aware as you."

Fiona gave a small nod, acknowledging that she had heard him. She then began walking towards the back of the pub not looking back but knowing he would follow her. As she got to the door, she saw an arm above her head as the arm pushed the door open and held it for her to go out. She knew who that arm belonged to and she let a small smile escape her lips before venturing out into the rain. The minute she stepped out of the pub she was almost completely drenched. The rain was coming down in buckets, so she began running down the alley towards the main street that would take them back to her hotel room. When she got to the juncture between the alley and the main street, Michael placed a hand on her right arm, which made her pause and look at him. He walked around her, blocking her body from anyone or anything that might be waiting for her on the street. She leaned towards him and whispered in his left ear, "Even if there was another one of my associates here, you wouldn't know what they look like so why don't you let me go first?"

Michael looked back at her and smiled, gesturing that she should go first. She walked past him and as she did her body brushed lightly against his arm. He felt the cold, wet fabric and underneath the warmth of her body. She began jogging down the street towards her hotel and he fell into pace beside her. Once they were there they both pushed the door to the lobby open at the same time and almost slid as their wet shoes hit the tile. They stopped, catching each other's hands to steady one another and laughing as they made their way towards the elevator completely drenched.

Once in the elevator they dropped hands, suddenly conscious of the fact that they were very, very attracted to each other. Fiona pushed the button that would take the elevator to her floor of the room. She stepped back and stood next to Michael, both of them keeping their eyes forward, watching as the elevator went from floor to floor. When the elevator "dinged" as it arrived at her floor Fiona hesitated before walking towards the front of the elevator. The doors opened and she began to walk forward as Michael fell into step behind her. She led the way down the hall to her room, fished into the pocket of her wet jeans for her room key and opened the door. She went in, holding the door open behind her for Michael to enter the room. He caught the door as she walked in and began turning on the lights. He hesitated at the threshold of her room, in the room but not wanting to go forward until he was certain it was OK with her that he do so.

She turned back and noticed him, seemingly for the first time in hours. "You must be drenched! The bathroom is here" she gestured to her right and said, "I think there are some fresh towels and there's a robe hanging on the back of the door"

Michael walked forward to where she indicated the bathroom was and as he did so, he began pulling the shirt he was wearing over his head. As he passed her she brushed his chest with her hand and he paused, looking at her, knowing that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He finished removing his shirt and stepped towards her, his right hand cupping her left cheek, his other hand on her back. He pulled her towards him as her arms came around him and their lips met. They began to kiss, gently at first, exploring, in no hurry his lips brushing back and forth against hers. She pulled him closer to her and as she did he pushed her up against the wall behind her. She hit it with a jolt and when she did she opened her mouth slightly and bit his bottom lip. He pulled back and looked at her for a second, then pulled her to him again and started kissing her harder and deeper than before. He felt her nails scratch his bare back, as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. As he did so, he slid the jacket from her shoulders and let it continue falling down to the floor behind her.

He moved his hands around to the back of her shirt, pulling it up. His fingers traced the smooth contours of her back, one finger teasing her as it traced her spine over and over again. She brought her left leg up to his hip, placing her foot on his bottom and using it to pull him even closer to her. He let out a moan into her mouth as he began removing her shirt, breaking off their kiss only for the second it took him to take it off. He threw it someplace behind him, caring not where it landed but only that it was no longer on her.

He wrapped both arms around her waist and he began kissing her jaw, then down her neck to the hollow of her throat. As he did so he heard her utter a small moan. She began arching her back, wanting his mouth to go lower but instead he turned her around He moved her hair and began nibbling on the back of her neck. As he gave attention to the back of her neck he alternately nipped and licked the spot right above her spine. The sensation sent shock waves through her body. She arched back, pressing herself into him and feeling him harden beneath her. His hands stilled as she turned herself around in his arms. He found her mouth again and kissed her deeply, hungrily as his hands ran up and down her body as if he were memorizing it. He broke off their kiss and began following the trail his fingers had blazed with his tongue. He loved the taste of her skin but wanted even more from her. He unfastened her jeans, letting them fall in a pool at her feet as he picked her up and carried her to the bed. As he laid her down on it Fiona began unfastening Michael's pants and as he laid down on the bed next to her, he kicked them off.

Once they were prone lying next to each other their hands seemed to be everywhere at once, finally able to explore each other's bodies without clothing in the way. Each touch, each new discovery seemed to bring about a sigh of contentment from the other. He continued to follow each touch of his hand with his tongue, hearing her gasp in pleasure as he did so, which only increased his desire for her. She leaned up and found his right shoulder, gently nipping at it. He looked up at her as he noticed the triskele tattoo on her right hip. He became fascinated with the tattoo, as it somehow made what they were doing even more erotic. This mark on her skin intrigued him and he began tracing it over and over. Fiona felt his fingers trace the pattern of the tattoo and she reached beneath his arms, bringing him up so he was even with her. She kissed him, her fingers and hands exploring his body as she did. She then wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him closer to her as she whispered the story of the triskele tattoo in his right ear. As she did so Michael traced the tattoo on Fiona's right hip with the fingers of his left hand as he listened to her melodic, Irish lilt tell the tale of the triskele and what it stood for. "It's a pagan symbol of blessing of Brigid or in Catholic lore. The swirls mean art, craft, and life; it's a symbol of protection. I've also heard that it means sun, afterlife and reincarnation but I like my first explanation better."

Fiona felt his fingertips trace the swirls over and over again. The feeling was delicious and this simple, light touch was almost too much for her to handle. He felt her breath still as she waited for him to begin tracing the pattern again. As Michael noticed this change in her breathing, he paused in his tracing, placing his palm over her hip, covering the triskele. Fiona pulled Michael closer to her as his hand made its way from her hip to her back, pulling her closer to him as well. He began kissing her, his tongue exploring her mouth as if it were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. He was anticipating what she would want next, anxious for her to take the lead, but perfectly willing to do so himself.

He felt her hand gently touch the back of his head, caressing it before nudging his head closer to her, deepening the kiss by forcing his tongue deeper into her mouth. He then felt her other hand begin gently scratching his back as her fingers traced in a languid up and down motion, in no hurry just getting to know the terrain, of his back with her nails and fingertips. The touch mirrored his from earlier as he had traced her triskele tattoo over and over again. Michael wasn't sure how much more he could stand of this easy, gentle touch before it became too much for him to bear. He began bringing his hand that was on her hip up and under her right arm holding onto her shoulder, bringing her even closer to him than before, continuing with their seemingly never ending kiss. He felt Fiona's hand bring him closer to her as well and the hand that had been languidly caressing his back suddenly became forceful as it pulled him on top of her, pinning him down on her. He felt her shift her weight as she pulled her left leg out from underneath him. He broke off the kiss and looked down at her, questioning her with his eyes, making sure she had intended to do what she had just done. Fiona looked up at Michael with an amused look in her eyes as she nodded slightly, barely lifting her hips off of the bed up to Michael offering permission. Michael kissed her once again before he entered her, making sure that this is what she wanted and that she was ready.

As he entered her he felt her hips rise up to him, bringing him deeper within her. She placed her hands on his back as they kissed and found their pace. He moved slowly at first, enjoying each sensation as he moved within her. She met him stroke for stroke, moving slightly, not in any rush enjoying the build. They broke off their kiss as they began moaning simultaneously, the feeling overwhelming both of them. They looked at each other, locking eyes as they began to become more and more excited, their pace picking up, Michael flipped Fiona over so that she was on top of him, straddling him. She began to move up and down on him, Michael steadying her by keeping his hands on her hips as she moved. He traced the her body with his right hand, bringing it up to her neck, caressing the underside of her jaw as she arched back, her eyes closed in concentration. He watched her as a small frown creased her eyebrows, and her mouth formed a small "O" she began to move a little faster as the orgasm overtook her. He kept pace with her, trying to please her. She began to shake, then leaned forward and lay on top of him, completely spent.

He stilled beneath her, waiting until she was ready for him to continue. A few seconds later she lifted her head, placed her hand beneath his neck and began pulling him back on top of her. Her hands caressed his chest as he began to thrust inside of her once more. When she felt that he was ready she lifted her hips again, her hands grasping at his backside as he thrust harder and harder until he let out a groan. He collapsed on top of her, breathing hard. She stroked his back, enjoying the feeling of his weight on her. He lifted his head and kissed her gently, and then he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

A few minutes later he felt her weight shift slightly as she whispered to him "I need to pee. " He laughed as he got off of her and watched her walk to the bathroom and close the door. While she was in the bathroom he began taking in the surroundings of the room, noticing her bag on a chair in the corner and another one lying on the floor next to it. He began feeling around the bed and he found a small caliber handgun underneath her pillow. He knew it would be there and it felt kind of comforting to find it where he thought it would be. He did not remove the gun but instead left it where it was, for he unconsciously understood how important it was for her that he did so. He heard the door open and looked up as he saw her walking back towards the bed.

Fiona returned to bed and he held her in his arms, both enjoying the aftermath of their lovemaking as much as they did the process of it. He held her, her head nestled between his right shoulder and his neck, gently caressing her right arm, running his hand up and down it as he talked.

"So Fiona you have to rob a bank?" Somehow this type of "pillow talk" seemed appropriate for the both of them. This discussion was more honest and real than sweet nothings exchanged during post coital bliss.

Fiona raised her head slightly. "Yes, my organization needs some funds from the bank to help support some operations."

"If your organization is so hard up for funds, how is it that one of their operatives is staying in the equivalent of a five star hotel?" Michael asked, waiting for a response from her.

"They're not paying for it, I am. They had me booked at a place that was basically a youth hostel, not much better than a hovel where you bring your own sheets and share a bathroom at the end of the hall. I couldn't stay there."

Michael reassessed his bedmate. He thought her to be some dyed in the wool IRA loyalist that had dogma instilled in her from the time she could walk, and he was rather surprised to discover how wrong he was. Somehow she had enough finances to float her own stay here and while doing so she was drawn to something much nicer than was initially offered. Depending on the reasons she joined her organization, she could be easier to turn as an asset than he previously thought.

Fiona knew by his silence that Michael was assessing what she had last said, and while she hoped that he wouldn't use her reluctance to stay in a place she considered beneath her she knew that somehow, in some way he would utilize this information. Fiona knew what he was the minute she met him, and once he confirmed it she knew that she was in for either the most exhilarating experience of her life or the most heart breaking; she knew that there couldn't be any other way for them. This wasn't Irish fatalism talking either. Somehow she just knew that this was how it was to be between the two of them.

Michael looked over Fiona's head out of the window and saw that twilight was beginning to fall. He pulled his arm out from around her and leaned over her. "OK if you want me to help you I should take a look at those schematics before it gets any later, so we have time to plan a course of action."

Fiona reluctantly got out of bed and began walking towards the bag on the floor. She felt Michael watching her as she walked away, and she looked back at him over her left shoulder and smiled at him. He smiled back, enjoying the view. She kneeled down next to the bag on the floor and opened it taking out the schematics of the bank from an inside hidden pocket. She closed the bag and began walking back towards the bed, her eyes on Michael as she did, amused at the way he was enjoying her walking back towards him.

She handed the schematics to him then flopped down on her stomach next to him. He opened the paper. Sitting up a bit to read it better, he placed a hand on her back, absently rubbing it as he looked at the bank's blueprint. "Fi, where were you when the alarm went off, can you show me?"

She was both pleased and surprised at his casually shortening her name, although she wondered how much of it was done to feign intimacy in order to make her feel more aligned with him than the people she worked with. She looked up at the plans and pointed to where she was when the alarm sounded, "I was between the door and the first counter. There weren't any cameras that I could see and there wasn't any sort of beam or laser that I triggered, it just went off."

"Is it possible that you triggered the alarm when you went into the bank that it was on some sort of delay?"

"Please Michael, I'm insulted. I disabled the alarm before I even entered the bank, through the panel here," she said pointing to the schematic indicating where she had taken care of the alarm.

"Are you sure you disabled it? Perhaps someone else did before you so that when you were disabling it you actually armed it?"

Fi looked at him, taking in what he had said. Although she didn't want to agree with him, didn't want to admit it, perhaps she had missed something as simple as the alarm being disabled when she opened the panel. It did make some kind of strange sense. "That bastard!" she exclaimed as it dawned upon her how he had set it her up. "I'm going to kill him!"

"Whoa Fi, calm down. Instead of using your energy to kill him, why don't you use it to show him up, to go back to Ireland with a bag full of cash showing what a success your mission had been?"

Fi considered what he was saying, weighing the pros and cons of killing the bastard who had set her up. It would take care of the problem for a little while, until someone else tried to show her up, with going back to Dublin a success.

"OK Michael, get dressed. We have to go rob a bank."


	3. Chapter 3

Michael put the schematics down on the bed and looked at Fi, as if seeing her for the first time, realizing how much she was willing to do, how much she was willing to sacrifice in order to be seen as a success. He leaned in and kissed her again, and as she began responding to his kiss he turned her over onto her back, pulling him to her again. Then he felt her stop. She just stopped as if a switch had been flicked somehow and he didn't really understand what had happened.

Fiona was suddenly all business.

"If you help me with this there will be time for that later. Now we have to get up, get dressed and go rob a bank."

She got up from the bed and began gathering some clothes from the dresser before disappearing into the bathroom without looking back. Michael got up from the bed, gathered his clothing from the floor and began dressing, totally confused by how cold and distant she now seemed. Granted he didn't really know her or her moods, for they had just met a few hours ago -- but it had been his experience that most of the time his partner was a little more warm, a little more emotional post sex and not so distant and aloof. He continued dressing, tying his shoes as he waited for her to come out of the bathroom.

He heard the door open, looked up and saw her standing there, all business, completely ready to go. Hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a tight black turtleneck and black pants. She picked up the backpack he had seen her carrying earlier and he knew that this must be her "tool box" --that is to say, the materials she needed in order to break into the bank. He was very curious as to what was in her "tool box" and he wondered how closely it mirrored his own. She started walking towards the door**.** "Ready?" she asked him since he was still sitting on the bed.

He got up off of the bed and started walking towards the door, still a bit thrown over what was going on. He walked next to her to the elevator, pushed the call button and leaned against the wall, trying to look relaxed, but inside he was in complete confusion over the change in her. He knew he had to let it go, he knew he had to have his mind in the game for the mission they were about to undergo but somehow he just couldn't. He heard the elevator "ding" and waited for her to enter the car first. He followed behind her and stood next to her. Fi waited a few seconds and when she noticed that Michael had not pushed the button for the elevator to take them to the lobby she reached across him and pushed the button herself. "Michael, if you're having any doubts or if you don't want to do this tell me now so you can go back to your hotel and I can cut my losses now before we get there and too much is at stake."

"No. I'm fine Fi, I'm with you on this." And just like that Michael had his professional face on. He started running the job in his head, deciding how they would go about the specifics of robbing the bank. Fi watched Michael and knew he was back in the game, which was exactly where she needed him to be if this was to be successful. Then Michael started listening to the Muzak playing in the elevator and realized it was an instrumental version of "Ring of Fire" by Johnny Cash which made him start to laugh and his professional façade cracked as he bent over laughing harder than he had in months. When he was finally able to open his eyes again he noticed that Fiona was looking at him like he was completely insane. "Don't you know what's playing?" Michael asked between fits of laughter.

"No." Fiona said, looking miffed because she didn't get the joke.

"It's 'Ring of Fire' by Johnny Cash. You know, 'the taste of love is sweet, when hearts like ours meet. I fell for you like a child, oh but the fire went wild'." Michael looked at Fiona and noticed that she didn't seem at all pleased by him sharing this bit of music history with her. "OK I guess you're not familiar with the works of Johnny Cash." Michael tried to maintain a straight face.

"Michael if you don't want to do this job, or if you're not into it, it's OK I understand but don't start pleading insanity just to get out of it." Fi said to Michael in a totally deadpan voice, but a second later a smile crossed her face and he knew she was joking.

They avoided looking at each other because they both knew that if they did it was all over; their professional veneers would crack in a second. Fi needed Michael totally on his game in this. She wasn't exactly new to all this, but this was the first time she had done a robbery at night and she had never worked with a partner before. She was sure that a lot of this jitteriness was due to these two factors and the fact that they had just had sex a few hours ago.

The elevator reached the lobby and Fi stepped off followed by Michael. They began walking down the street towards the bank, Fi on the lookout for any associates that might be hanging around, Michael on the lookout for any handlers. They were both now at the top of their game, totally in their respective elements, but Fi still sensed that something was off for Michael. "Michael, do you want to leave now, and go back to your hotel? I'm sensing that something about this isn't working for you."

Michael sobered up at the last bit. The fact that he was being so obvious to her made him take notice. Somewhere along the line he felt comfortable enough with this woman to let his guard down. He didn't do that, **ever**. It wasn't just the sex; there was something else to all of this, something that he couldn't quite put his finger on and didn't know how to explain to himself or anyone else. "No Fi, I said I'll help you and I will. I'm just thinking about what the money will be used for."

"Surely you've engaged in more nefarious behavior before, Michael. You can't tell me that while doing what you do that you haven't done a few things that you find morally objectionable?" Fi challenged.

Michael paused, trying to decide how to respond to this. "Yes, I have done things that I wouldn't do otherwise but they were always part of the job, part of the assignment. This, this has a different quality to it."

"How so?" Fi asked.

Michael was trying to figure out how to put into words how he was feeling about the situation, about how he had been thrown for a proverbial loop by this woman and how he wasn't quite sure what he was doing and how much was really part of the job and how much he was doing because he wanted to help her, to insure that she came out of it OK. He looked her right in the eye and said "It just does, that's all."

Fi took in what he said, "Wow! You really are a spy, you must have scored really, really high on the inveigle section in spy school." She said in a teasing tone as she turned towards the panel, took out a specially designed flashlight one that had a black, metal plate focusing the beam so that the beam didn't spread out but was focused on what she was working on and it also hid the beam of light from being seen from far away. She held the flashlight in one hand and then took out a screwdriver, and began opening the panel. Michael took up a position behind her to operate as her look out because he had the distinct feeling that she knew exactly what she was doing with the wiring inside the panel.

"Damn! He did rewire it to go off!" Michael heard Fi exclaim as she began rewiring the bank's alarm to keep it from going off once she was inside. "OK, done!" She said to him, as she began putting the panel back in place, she put the screwdriver back in her bag, turned off the flashlight and started walking towards the bank's doors.

Fi walked towards the bank's doors with Michael following close behind. When she got to the doors she took another tool out of her backpack. It took Michael a second to realize that it was a very sophisticated lock picking set. It didn't just include the standard ones that he had in his; no, this looked like it could open any locked door at anytime, anywhere. "Who _was_ this woman?" He found himself thinking.

She took a second to look at the lock then took out what seemed to be the very tool she would need without any hesitation or internal debate. She made quick work of the lock on the door and pulled it open, gently. Michael thought she was doing so due to the alarm going off earlier in the day. Perhaps she was a bit fearful that the same thing would happen again. If that was the case it didn't show in the confident manner in which she picked the lock or in the way she went into the bank and was all business and ready to go.

They surveyed the bank's lobby. Fi seemed to know exactly where she was going, but Michael still felt _off_ even after studying the schematics, even after knowing exactly what the bank's layout was like. He was so off his game and he didn't understand why. This, this was not a difficult job by any stretch of the imagination. He had undergone far more dangerous missions and had been in more serious situations than this one, yet not one of those experiences had thrown him for a loop as much as this one. This wasn't even as difficult as the time he had to stay in a cave in the middle of the Gobi Desert for three days after escaping yet another operation gone wrong. Here he was in a rather stable political climate, in a major city, robbing a bank with an IRA terrorist. What could be easier? This should be a proverbial cake walk for him, especially since she was the one doing most of the work, and he was there, for what exactly? Backup? It didn't seem like she needed any of that, and she seemed to be doing just fine. It was in the middle of these musings that he realized Fi was calling him in that tone that women had when they knew you were ignoring them.

"_**Michael!" **_Fi said as she looked at him not only waiting for, but expecting a response from him.

"Yes, Fi?" Michael asked in as innocent of a tone that he could muster.

"Ah, there you are, where did you go? I've been calling your for at least a minute now. I need your help with this; I can't quite get it by myself." And with that Fi started walking towards the object that she needed Michael's assistance with.

Michael found himself standing in front of the biggest, heaviest looking vault door he had ever seen. Somehow she had managed to crack the vault's security and she had propped it open a bit, and he noticed she was holding it open with something he had never seen before, but she couldn't move the door any further than she already had. Michael looked for a release handle, one that he could hit and make the door open automatically, as he was doing so, Fi said. "Don't bother; I already looked, there isn't one."

"OK," Michael said and then thought to himself, "of course she had already looked. " He stepped forward and put his hands on the inside of the vault door, and began pulling it open inch by inch until he had it to a place where she could fit between the door and the wall to gain access to the vault. Once she was inside he heard her say "Found it! Let go of the door, Michael and step back--I found the release handle." Michael heard a "whoosh" of air as the door began opening. As Fi pushed the button that would open the door automatically, he stepped into the vault and looked around. The riches of the vault would float most third world countries for years, and yet he was here to help her rob a bank to fund the IRA.

Fi began walking towards the stacks of money, looking for the area that held the higher denominations and then began placing them inside a bag that she removed from her backpack. When she was sure she had all that she wanted or needed to take with her, she walked away from the shelf towards the front of the vault. When she got there she noticed that Michael was not following behind her, nor did he seem all that anxious to leave the vault.

"Michael, you coming?" Fi asked, right eyebrow slightly raised as she looked at him.

"Yeah, Fi, I'll be right there." And with that Michael shrugged off whatever was bothering him and made his way out of the vault with Fi, her tool box, and the money. Once they were both outside the vault, Fi picked up the tool she had used to prop the vault doors open, then they both began pushing the vault closed. Then they made their way out of the bank, Fi resetting the lock once they exited. While she did so, through some unspoken agreement, Michael walked over to the alarm panel and began opening it. Once he noticed that Fi was done with the lock he rearmed the alarm. As he was replacing the panel, Fi walked over to him and handed him the duffle bag of money. He took it in his right hand as they walked back towards the hotel, not speaking, just enjoying each other's company. Somewhere along the way, Fi began to lean in towards him slightly Michael put his left arm around her shoulders as she placed her right arm around his waist as they walked back to her hotel.

"So this is what's it's like having a partner," they both thought to themselves as they made their way down the street. They both smiled at the knowledge that they both understood where the other one was coming from without the usual artifice that normally accompanies relationships. They knew who the other person was in terms of what they did and how they choose to conduct their lives. There would be no pretending that they were just regular people, people that didn't engage in some of the seedier aspects of life because they both knew how blatant of a lie that was.

They entered the hotel lobby and made their way towards the elevators.. Once inside Michael pushed Fi up against the elevator wall and began kissing her passionately. Fi responded by pulling him as close to her as she could, her hands on his back, his hands making their way up her body and into her hair, pulling the rubber band out of her hair and letting it fall down, his hands now tangling themselves in it. The elevator dinged and they broke apart, breathing heavily, suddenly feeling the need to be discrete in case someone else entered the elevator. They waited for whomever might be entering the elevator, and it took a second for them to realize that the elevator had stopped on Fi's floor. Michael leaned forward to press the "door open" button on the panel, and Fi walked out of the elevator with Michael trailing behind.

Once they got to her room it seemed like Fi couldn't open the door fast enough,**.** Michael had his hands on Fi's hips, holding on to her from behind as she opened the door. They barely made it inside before they were on each other again. This time Fi's hands made their way up to Michael's head, tugging at his hair as she pulled him even closer to her. His hands made their way up and underneath her shirt, coming forward and cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples with his thumbs. Fi broke off their kiss and moaned, her forehead on his jaw as he continued teasing her, arousing her with his thumbs. As it almost became too much for Fi to bear, Michael finally removed her shirt and began tracing the patterns his thumbs had made with his tongue. Fi arched her back as she bought her hands up to his head, her hands in his hair keeping his mouth right where she wanted it to be. Fi then bought her hands down, finding the bottom of his shirt, as she removed it, his mouth breaking contact for a second as she did. Once his shirt was off he continued his oral explorations. Fi bought her hands up to his torso and began teasing his nipples, pinching them slightly between her thumb and index finger. Finally they found each other's mouths again and began kissing hungrily, tongues exploring, probing, as their hands pulled each other closer to the other, both enjoying the skin to skin contact that their upper bodies provided.

In the tangle of hands, limbs and mouths, someone finally found the button on the other's pants and let it loose. The other one quickly followed suit and both kicked off the last of their garments. Michael picked Fi up slightly, pressing her against the wall behind her; she brought her legs up and wrapped them around his waist as he readied to enter her. He thrust inside her and as he did so she gasped. Michael looked at her, to make sure she wasn't hurt and noticed that Fi had a strange, very satisfied look on her face. Fi pulled him closer to her, making him thrust even more deeply inside of her, she found her rhythm with him and began moving with him. After a few minutes, Michael placed his hands underneath her bottom and carried her to the bed so that he was sitting on the edge of it, with her on top of him. Once they were a more solid surface they were able to move more than they had been earlier. Their pace quickened, and for a heartbeat Michael thought Fi was going to fall off of him and to the floor, at that moment they caught each other's eyes, which only excited them more. They looked at each other as they continued not speaking, and this-- this being very different from their first time not as tender and certainly not as delicate-- had a feeling of urgency that neither one of them could really understand or explain. It was almost as if this was to be their last time together in this way.

They continued moving together, their eyes locked until they both knew they were done, for as urgent and as desperate as this time together seemed to be it was also rather silent. There was no loud voice calling the other's name or any grunt or moan of satisfaction. Fi simply climbed off of Michael when they were done and made her way into the bathroom not looking back. Michael was at a loss for what to do. He wasn't sure if he should get dressed and leave her hotel room before she got back or if he should stay and wait so they could "talk" about what just happened.

Fiona leaned against the bathroom door, closing her eyes trying to make sense out of what just occurred. It wasn't just the sex; the whole encounter had this strange feeling of finality. This sense that something had just ended and she had no idea why. She gave herself a moment to regain her composure and to make sure he had enough time to clean himself up, get dressed and leave the hotel room with no regrets on either of their parts. She went to the sink and washed her hands, and as she did so she made sure not to make eye contact with her reflection in the mirror because she was sure if she did, that's what would make the tears come and the realization with them of what had just happened. As she was drying her hands, she heard the click of the door to the room and knew that he had left. She opened the door to the bathroom, slightly, just to make sure he had left the room and once that was confirmed, she went back into the bathroom and stepped into the shower. The tears took a few minutes to start. It wasn't until she was under the spray that she began letting herself feel for the first time in days. She began processing everything that had happened since yesterday afternoon and she found herself strangely overwhelmed. She could hardly believe that everything that had happened only been in the past twenty four hours. Sometime during all this, she had lost herself to another person and she wasn't sure when she would get all of herself back. She let everything she was feeling come out and she began to sob, finally dropping to the tub and letting it all out.

Michael stood outside the bathroom door and listened as Fi was crying under the shower, knowing that she only did so because she believed him to be gone. He knew that he had to leave the room to afford her the luxury of being able to express her emotions freely, and yet something was tugging at him, telling him to stay. It wasn't because she was crying; he had dealt with plenty of women crying for or in front of him, and it never bothered him. No, this was something else, something different. He felt drawn to her, connected somehow. As much as he wanted to open the bathroom door and go to her he knew he couldn't, he couldn't betray her that way. He slipped out as quietly as he could, forming a plan of action as he went. He began working on a cover ID in his head, one that would help him infiltrate her organization in Ireland. He thought it might be time for Fiona's associates to meet Michael McBride.


End file.
